Shaking her tail feathers, Mama Duck quacked
loudly, "Come on little quackers, it's time for
swimming lessons." Out of the reeds popped six
little yellow ducks. When they got to the edge of
the lake, Mama Duck was already in the water. One
by one they waded in and started to float, that is,
all but one. He was the smallest, and Dinky was his
name. His mama said he was the last to be hatched,
and to her eternal shame, from a rather small egg.
"Well, Dinky, what are you waiting for?" she
quacked.
"I'm not gonna go in the water. It's cold and
I'll get my feet wet. I wanna stay here in the
warm mud," Dinky queeked. Remember, Dinky is
really very small.
"Of course you'll get your feet wet. That's
what ducks do," replied Mama. "Also, do you want
to be duck soup for one of the fox family?"
"If a fox comes I'll hide in the reeds. He'll
never find me," he queeked. With a smart-aleck
twitch of his small tail Dinky settled down with
his feet in the warm mud.
Mama Duck looked at Dinky for a long time,
wondering how come she had such a dumb duck. It
must have something to do with his size. "Dinky"
she quacked, "I warn you, that muck-mud will get
dry and hard as the day goes on. So for the last
time, you must come in the water."
Turning his head Dinky queeked, No, No, No!"
Mama Duck sighed, and set sail with her five
little quackers, who really didn't care if he got
stuck-in-the-mud. He was a pain anyhow, always
queeking at them.
Some time later, Mama Duck and the five little
quackers came back, and sure enough, dinky was
stuck in the dried mud. He was queeking up a
storm, because just beyond him, past the reeds.
was Fagin Fox. He was stirring something in a pot.
Planning duck soup no doubt.
Mama Duck quacked loudly, her five little
quackers wiggled their tails into the reeds. Fagin
Fox looked at her and laughed. "Get in the way
Mama and I'll have soup with quackers." He leaped
at her, but all he got were a few feathers. He
then turned his attention to Dinky. The queeking
stopped.
I simply cannot relate what happened then.
All I can tell you is the moral of this sad, sad
story is, "If you're a stick-in-the-mud and refuse
to get your feet wet, you could end up the quacker
in some fox's soup."
OR
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